At the World's End
by Whookami
Summary: A series of drabbles featuring Jeff Sterling, before, during, and after the World ends.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: End of the World scenario

Note: So I joined a Glee RP based on the concept of a zombie apocalypse. It is ridiculously fun. To get in character I've been writing drabbles for my character, Jeff. (I adore the Warblers.) I haven't posted any of these to the group proper, since it's really just me trying to get a bead on Jeff's back story. It's all at least somewhat RP-canon, as a lot of what I've written about I've touched on in the group, and the group itself is canon to the end of season 4. I also draw doodles and write a diary. I'm having a blast :)

This first chapter was actually my application, which is why it's pretty expository. The following chapters will flow more like real vignettes.

* * *

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

* * *

The house was quiet.

Jeff thought he should be used to the peacefulness by now, but this morning the silence felt like it was wrapping around his body, squeezing him tighter and tighter. Sitting on the edge of his bed, phone dangling limply in his hand, he couldn't help the way his legs began to shake. Optimism and hope were fighting a losing battle against panic in his heart. He brought his hands up and shoved the flats of his palms against his eyes as though he could hold the tears inside.

It had been over a day since he had heard from either of his parents. Normally, this wasn't much of an issue. His father was a lobbyist, so he was often away for days at a time in Columbus. His mom was a talented and respected paediatric oncologist whose love and dedication to other kids sometimes cost her quality time with her own son. Jeff wasn't resentful of this last fact, he knew that he was lucky. His mother had made it to almost every little league game, dance recital and choir performance he'd ever been in. She'd even attended his disastrous run with the orchestra and defended his tuba playing as 'a colourful interpretation of the notes on the page.'. She hadn't exactly protested when he'd quit though. Most of the poor kids under her care would never get to play in a baseball game, or tap their way across a stage, and so Jeff could never hold it against them for needing so much of his mother's time.

He pulled himself up from the seductive softness of his bed, stumbling slighty on his shaky legs as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Wallowing would hardly do any good right now, neither would self pity. His parents were both trapped apart from him, and he owed it to them to do his best to take care of himself so that they could be together again when things returned to normal. Not that he knew when that would be, or even what was really going on. The news reports streaming in were all frantic and disjointed. The last thing he'd watched had informed him that all hospitals in the Columbus area were on lockdown, and he held on to the glimmer of hope that his Mom was alright. The thought that she might not be was unbearable. He wished that this was all some sort of bad dream, but he hadn't been able to relax enough to sleep for awhile now. Fanciful dark visions from the television coverage danced in the blackness beneath his lids whenever he closed his eyes, and so he'd just resorted to keeping them open as long as he could. He absently glanced at the phone on the wall as he grabbed an apple from the countertop bowl and took a large bite. Still no new callers or messages. He sighed and gripped the apple with his teeth as he lifted his mobile to check it as well. Nothing.

Jeff wasn't exactly good at being isolated or alone. He'd been a fairly popular boy his entire life, owing to a sunny disposition and slight naïveté. Life was too short to waste being angry or arguing, so he'd always strived to get along and accept everyone. It had served him pretty well, and he was fortunate enough to have a large circle of friends, and a few especially close ones. Close friends that he couldn't for the life of him reach at the moment.

The first thing he'd done after trying to reach his parents' cells and workplaces had been to message Nick Duval. The two had become fast friends at Dalton, forging a particularly close bond even while being among each other's direct competition for solos. Not that they ever won, Dalton never seemed to want for talented lead soloists, but it was fun to push each other to be better, to try harder. Perhaps they were both destined to always be backups, but at Dalton it didn't matter, the Warblers were all brothers. Well, perhaps Clairington wasn't, he thought unkindly. The past year had certainly been filled with its ups and downs thanks to Hunter, but Jeff didn't really want to waste his time hating the other young man. It would be hard to rationalize having a petty grudge against another human when the dead seemed to be rising from their graves. He thumbed anxiously through his contacts but Nick still hadn't replied yet. Taking another bite of his apple, Jeff slumped against the wall, sliding down until his legs were stretched out in front of him on the cold hard wood floor.

He would give anything for a new text right about now. Of course he wanted to hear back from his parents the most, but just about anyone at all would satisfy him at the moment. He just needed someone to tell him what he should be doing. He felt a shameful blush creep into his cheeks, but couldn't help it. He had never been much of a planner, he was a doer. Even when working on choreography he'd rather just jump into a routine and let it flow naturally than sit back and think it out step by step. It probably frustrated the other Warblers somewhat, although Nick told him that the enthusiasm he showed was one of his best qualities. He suspected Sebastian might not agree with that statement, since the two of them were usually the ones who had to work out the group's dance routines together. He just functioned better when he knew someone had a plan, someone he could count on to have thought out all the problems and the pitfalls that, left alone to his own devices, he would've stumbled into. Nick, Blaine, Sebastian, heck, even Hunter right now would fit the bill.

Finishing off the last bite of his apple, he stared at the phone in his lap. "Someone...just tell me that my parents are okay, then tell me what I'm supposed to do next. Deal?" he pled of the empty room, head slumping forward until his chin touched his chest. Moments later his breathing evened out and for the first time in over twenty four hours Jeff Sterling slept. His dreams were not peaceful.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

Notes: In the RP I've established that Jeff is a sucktacular drunk, and everything that happens in this segment is eluded to, but hasn't ever been outright addressed. We don't have a Nick, sadly, so all of this is just my own backstory headcanon. I'm hoping a Nick shows up someday. In the show's canon this falls between season 2 and 3.

* * *

Teenage Wasteland

* * *

Jeff wasn't sure of much at the moment except that he was incredibly drunk, and was enjoying every minute of it.

It wasn't uncommon for the Warblers to throw parties now and then, and things usually got pretty wacky, finally getting a chance to loosen their ties and act their ages. The hallways of Dalton sort of encouraged a serious air, and most of the boys subconsciously adopted that attitude, outside of the rehearsal room at least. This party had a distinct difference though, and it was chiefly because Trent's parents were vacationing in the Mediterranean at the moment. Someone, Jeff couldn't exactly recall who at this point, had suggested busting open the well stocked liquor cabinet that filled the corner of the Nixon's rec room. Trent had initially objected rather frantically, but had been overruled by the whims of the group, and their promises to restock the bar well before his parents returned Stateside. That had been all it took, and shortly after the party had descended into utter chaos.

He hadn't had many drinks, or at least Jeff couldn't recall having had more than a few, but it did seem that his hand had never been empty since the liquor had started flowing, and his throat was never dry. Curious. Jeff couldn't even discern what he had been ingesting, and squinted into his almost empty cup to try and determine the answer. None was forthcoming, so he tipped the cup back to his lips and drank it down. It had no flavour except burning, and at any other time that might've been enough to persuade him to stop, but it didn't seem like much of a drawback right now.

The only issue he faced was how incredibly hot and packed it was in the room. It wasn't exactly a tiny area, but it was smaller than the rehearsal space that normal hosted the rowdy troupe of boys. It was hard to move more than a foot or two in any direction without bumping into another student, or brushing by them at least. That only added to the warmth, and Jeff could feel the thin fabric of his shirt sticking to his fevered skin.

Trent had hooked up his sound system to his iPod and the tunes were blasting, the bass a deep hum that Jeff could feel through the soles of his feet, coursing up his legs and settling in his chest, pounding the music through his veins like it was his lifeblood. He felt more free than he had in a while, probably since he had started with the Warblers. It was hard to believe that only little over a year had passed. These boys were now like family, a part of him, a feeling that loomed always in the forefront of his mind. He trusted his fellow Warblers unlike any others before. He'd always been a popular enough person, a fact he attributed more to his willingness to forsake his own needs to get along, rather than any distinctly likable qualities. Until he'd understood what real friendship meant he'd always been okay with just getting along and getting by, but now friendship was like a drug, addicting and terrifying. He loved these guys. It was both overwhelming and comforting, the ache in his chest as he watched them, laughing and carousing with each other. He wanted it. All of these feelings he'd ignored or never understood. With the pleasant numbness of the alcohol clouding his brain, he let himself go. Feel.

Nick was on the dance floor, a wide smile plastered on his face as he swayed slightly, leaning forward and shouting something unintelligible into Beatbox's ear. The taller boy threw his head back in hysterics, and as Jeff got closer he could see the cheery blush across his cheeks. Beatbox was almost as drunk as Jeff himself was. Almost. Truth be known, and some of the other boys truly had noticed, Jeff was certainly the most inebriated that evening. When Thad had started pouring drinks, Jeff had stammered and blushed, protesting that of course he had had alcohol before. Not a single person in the room had believed the poor blonde boy, but Thad had obliged and poured him a rum and coke regardless. At least, Jeff thought it was a rum and coke. All the liquor tasted alike to him. Why no one had cut him off several drinks ago was a question most of the Warblers were asking themselves right now.

"It's hot in here!" Jeff shouted as he stepped out onto the dance floor, sidling up to his two friends. "Do you think it's hot?"

Nick shrugged, and Beatbox nodded vigorously, hooking one finger into the collar of his t-shirt and pulling it away from his flushed skin.

"Then go outside and get some cool air, Jeff," Nick suggested, slightly worried about his best friend. The blonde was beet red and his hazel eyes huge and bleary. Nick had wisely limited his own drinking, knowing that at least some of the guys might need someone a little more sober to watch over them. It looked like Jeff was certainly going to fall into that category.

"I wanna dance, Nicky!" Jeff exclaimed, waving his arms emphatically in the air, nearly knocking a drink from another student's hand as he did.

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. This might turn out to be a trying evening. He reached out and placed his hand against the flat of Jeff's back, intent on leading the blonde out to the Nixon's backyard, with maybe a pit stop in the bathroom to splash some water on the kid's face first.

"Hell yeah! Nick wants to dance to!" Jeff laughed, taking Nick's touch in the wrong context.

"Wh-No! No, Jeff, I'm try-" Nick spluttered, as the taller boy took hold of his wrists, dragging him to the centre of the room. "I don't want to dance, Jeff!" he hollered above the music.

"Dance!" Beatbox crowed joyfully, weaving across the room to where Trent's iPod sat happily blasting out tunes. He picked it up and casually thumbed through it until a triumphant look crossed his face. "Dance, dance!" he chanted, and a few of the other more inebriated Warblers joined in.

Nick looked around the room for a lifeline, briefly catching Blaine's eyes. The short soloist looked startled, giving Nick a worried look in return, trying to mime something, but Nick was pulled away before he could make sense of it. Jeff was swaying slightly, not with the music but from the level of alcohol in his blood stream. After a few seconds the tune from the speakers changed and the familiar beat of Rihanna's 'Shut up and Drive' began to fill the room, super charging the energy of those on the dance floor.

Jeff's head was tilted down, but he nodded slowly at first, warming to the beat. He began to moving with the song, not lifting his head, but his hazel eyes stared up at his best friend through the fringe of his bangs. His hips began to swivel, getting caught up in the frantic pulse of music, his leg slotting forward between Nick's. This was what he wanted, to forget himself and just be a part of the sounds and rhythms filling his consciousness. He didn't have to be that shy stammering idiot when the music claimed him, when the dance floor owned him. Right now he could be whoever and whatever he wanted, and the thundering of his heart told him he wanted to share this feeling with Nick. If there was anyone in the world who could ever understand him, it would be Nick. Jeff's arms snaked out, grabbing hold of the shorter boy's hips, thumbs digging in ever so slightly as he held him, trying to match their movements. Nick seemed reluctant at first, but the blonde attributed that to the other boy being less confident when it came to dancing. The brown haired Warbler could certainly belt out music with reckless abandon, but Jeff was the better dancer between the two of them. The blonde smiled, holding the other's gaze, trying to be reassuring as he pulled in closer, the rhythm fast and frantic as he ground his hips against his closest friend. The friction was delicious and heady, and Jeff could feel his eyes slide closed as he lost himself in the pounding beat and the stirring deep in his abdomen. Every synapse in his head was firing and it was like an electric current connecting him to the floor and his friend. Everything was one, and it was more perfect than he could have ever hoped for.

Jeff pulled back reluctantly a moment, arms leaving the ridge of Nick's hip to grip at his own shirt, lifting the flimsy garment up and off with one sure gesture. His best friend was breathing rapidly, a harsh rattling sound, and his hand was clutching uselessly at his tie. Jeff smirked, boldened by the wonderful euphoria of drunkeness, slowly drawing the tie from Nick's hand and using it to pull him forward. Nick danced as if in a trance, movements jerky and disjointed, his eyes wide and staring unblinkingly into Jeff's.

This was it, what he'd been waiting for. Their bodies were pressed tight now, Jeff's arms encircling the shorter boy, guiding him in time with the beat, legs intertwined and hips moving as one. The friction building was relentless and demanding, Jeff biting his lip to hold in a desperate moan. He wanted this moment so badly, to share everything with the boy he cared about more than anyone he'd ever met in his life. He breathed deep once, then pushed forward slowly, deliberately. Nick's lips were warm and smooth against his own. They tasted faintly of the liquor he'd drank, and Jeff savoured it, his tongue darting out cautiously to taste. His hands wound up to tangle in the other boy's hair as the kiss deepened, mouths opening hungrily for more. They continued to sway as they explored each other's bodies, all desperate kisses and clutching fingers.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A huffy voice invaded from Jeff's periphery, a hand firmly clamping over his up arm. The boy spun abruptly, bangs flipping sharply to the side. Thad was standing next to them, arms crossed angrily, Trent hovering worriedly in the background.

"It's called dancing," the blonde rolled his eyes, hands trying to find their way back to Nick's body, but Thad pulled him backwards roughly, almost toppling them.

"It looks more like you're trying to fuck in the middle of Trent's rec room, Jeff." Thad thundered above the pounding bass, eyes dark and steely. Nick made a strangled sound of protest in the background that went ignored.

The taller boy brushed a hand through his hair roughly, glaring down at Warbler council member. "So? So what if I am?"

"You're drunk, Jeff."

"And you're just jealous that I don't move like someone stuck my feet in a bucket of cement."

Thad's jaw line tensed, and Nick could see how hard the other boy was trying to hold on to his temper. Jeff was missing all the warning signs however.

"So look, I'm sorry if you consider that pathetic two step side shuffle to count as actual dancing, but it's not. You suck, Thad. You suck hard. Now get off the dance floor and let me do my thing."

It was a testament to his will power that Thad didn't deck the drunk Warbler. He yanked him hard, unbalancing Jeff enough that the blonde either had to follow or fall. Not willing to lose a second of momentum, Thad bodily hauled the protesting boy through the house, up the stairs and on to the front porch. Gauging him mentally, Thad raised one hand and slapped the blonde once sharply across the face.

"Oh my god!" Jeff sputtered, hand instinctively reaching up to rub at the red welt that was already forming. "What the hell, man? What the actual hell?"

"You're lucky that's all you're getting." Thad fumed, cradling his hand slightly. He leaned to peer around the boy. "You okay, Nick?"

Jeff turned to notice that the other young man had followed them out. Actually, a small crowd had. Blaine was exchanging nervous glances with David, and Beatbox stood in back, looking fainting ashamed. Trent was fluttering about the edges, barely maintaining his composure. Nick was still staring blankly, but nodded dumbly in response to Thad's question. The look in his best friend's eyes nearly caused Jeff's heart to fall to the ground in pieces.

"Seriously, Jeff, if Wes had been here..." Thad trailed off threateningly.

The blonde pushed away, stumbling down the steps and burying his face in his hands. "Leave me alone," he mumbled, rocking slightly, suddenly feeling like the world had started spinning while he remained stationary. He was going to be sick, he felt sure of it.

"Jeff..." Nick licked his lips nervously and hopped down the steps to stand at his friend's back, one hand lifting almost hesitantly before closing over his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"What the fuck did I do, Nick?" Jeff moaned, letting his hands fall to reveal red rimmed eyes full of confusion. He couldn't explain what he'd been thinking or feeling, couldn't make sense of the well of emotions rising up like a tidal wave in his chest. It was too much, and his head wouldn't just shut up for two seconds. "Nick?" he asked again, his voice a broken whisper. "Did I fuck up?"

Nick bit his lip, trying to think of the right words to say that would comfort his friend. Jeff was never exactly the most emotionally stable of the Warbler group, and saying the wrong thing now might destroy any progress the boy had made since arriving at Dalton. Jeff took the drawn out silence for the worst, though. He could feel his heart thump once and then grind to a stop in his chest before the tears started streaming down his face, a soft keening sound accompanying them. Nick gathered the sobbing boy in his arms, rubbing comforting circles into his back, whispering reassurances in his ear.

"You got this, Nick?" David called from the porch, watching the two with a concerned expression, hands tightening on the railing.

Nick nodded, trying to give the group gathered on the front step a positive glance, before turning back to the blonde. Jeff was leaning heavily against Nick, to the point where he'd probably fall flat on his face if the shorter boy pulled away. He couldn't help it though, and clung to his best friend like a life line. He could feel his shoulders shaking and the sweat cooling on his bare chest. "I took off my shirt." Jeff frowned in confusion, struggling to remember exactly when that had happened.

The brown haired boy gave a wry smile, undoing his tie, and shrugging out of his over shirt. He was left standing in the cool night air in nothing but a white wife beater, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He drapped his button up around Jeff's shoulders, letting the boy pull it on by himself. After supporting the blonde for several more moments until the tears had stated to trail off, Nick gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Let's get back to Dalton, okay man?"

"But...the party..." Jeff indicated back toward the house with a flick of his head, sending the world into another tiny spinning fit. "You shouldn't have to leave because I made a total fool of myself." the Warbler cast his eyes downward, toeing at the ground with one beat up sneaker. "Why are you even still talking to me, after what I did..."

Nick threw an arm casually over Jeff's shoulder, steadily leading him along to the sidewalk, grateful that Trent lived closer to the Academy than any of the other Warblers. "Jeff, you're my best friend, I'm not going to stop talking to you just because you got crazy drunk."

Jeff blushed slightly and looked away, heart pounding once more in his ears. Whether Nick really believed it or not, if they could both write the kiss off as Jeff having had too much to drink, then perhaps things could go back to normal. Or they could pretend that they had, until they had convinced themselves it was fact. Allowing himself to be led through the dark streets, Jeff silently promised himself that regardless of what happened, of how much he hated himself or regretted getting drunk, he would never forget the feeling of Nick's lips, warm and welcoming against his own.

Nick was his first best friend, and now had also been his first kiss. Everyone had to start somewhere.


End file.
